


Clean Up

by LanJevinson



Series: Mickey Tries New Things [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich Week 2016, Gallavich week day 1, Kinda, M/M, Mickey has too many feelings for season 2 but go with it, Season 2, it's not that smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7405090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanJevinson/pseuds/LanJevinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Lip trashes the Kash and Grab during Ian and Lip's standstill over West Point, Mickey makes Ian feel a little better.  Takes place during 2x06 to be exact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean Up

**Author's Note:**

> This was not my original entry for Gallavich week day 1, but I chickened out on posting the first one I wrote! So here is the consolation prize. Not nearly as smutty as the other entries (my phone is still smoking)! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go clear my internet history. Ahem.

He definitely _didn't_ stay up til three last night watching videos of chicks blowing dudes to learn what the fuck he was supposed to do.  And he definitely _hadn't_ planned this day in advance or nothing.

He's late for his shift, but Gallagher's got a double, so they'll have plenty of time.  Besides, if he's getting on his knees for Ian today then he sure as shit better make it clear that he ain't his bitch.  Mickey Milkovich comes and goes when he pleases, and if he wants to suck a cock, then he's gonna fucking suck a cock.

He's gotta figure out how to make Gallagher beg for it, though.  He can't seem too over eager.

He wrenches open the Kash and Grab door and stops short.

"The fuck?"  Gallagher is crouched over the shell of a smashed watermelon. "What the fuck happened?"

Gallagher sniffs in disgust, but says nothing. He keeps his head down resolutely as he does a shitty job of picking up pieces of rind and tossing them into a plastic bag. Mickey can see the set of his jaw and the tense way he's holding his shoulders.

Is Ian fucking shaking?

"Who was it?" he demands, mind suddenly, irrationally cloudy with anger.

"Some asshole," Gallagher says.

"I fuckin' got that part. Tell me who it was," Mickey demands.  But Gallagher doesn't budge.  Mickey's stomach roils.  "Was it a fag bash?"

Ian snorts, like that shit is so fucking funny.  Ain't anything funny about beating up fags, Mickey knows.

"They just trashed the store.  Not me."

That is true.  Gallagher's unhurt.

"Fuck."  Mickey runs a hand through his hair.

"Why're you so pissed?" Ian wonders.

He's pissed because Gallagher's pissed, obviously.

Ian is staring at him curiously.

"Because now you gotta spend all your time cleaning this shit instead of gettin' on me!"  It wasn't quite the truth, but it wasn't a lie either.  He could work with that.

Ian smirks.  "You could help, y'know.  Make the cleanup go faster."

Mickey scoffs and moves toward the fridge, snagging himself a Powerade and watching with mild interest as Ian bends over the watermelon again, swiping ineffectively with a paper towel.  His face is stormy again.  Whatever had happened really did a number on him.

Mickey can't take it any longer.

"Get up," he orders, striding to the front of the door to flip the closed sign and deadbolt the door.  There's tomato splattered on the glass.

Gallagher gapes at him, still crouched on the floor.

"Really?  Right now?"

Mickey just strides past him, shucking off his security vest as he goes.  Yes, really, right now.  What better way to let off steam than coming?  Plus it'll keep Mickey from punching any asshole who so much as looks at Ian the wrong way right now.

That, and he's got plans.

Gallagher joins him within seconds of the freezer door swinging closed.  His brow is still furrowed in anger.  Mickey's gonna wipe that look right off his face.

"Take your pants off," Mickey orders.  Ian goes for his belt, then hesitates when Mickey doesn't start to do the same.  "Just fucking do it, asswipe," Mickey snaps.  His nerves are kicking in a little, and his mouth is dry.  He takes another swig of the drink he's still holding to wet his whistle and for something to do with his hands, which _aren't_ shaking, fuck you very much.

Why the fuck did he think this was a good idea?

Oh.  That's why.

Ian's dick is long and heavy between his legs, only half hard but already twitching further up as Mickey stares.  He's never really gotten a good look before.  He's always either turned around, ass up, or glancing around furiously as he jerks Gallagher off.

"Mick?"

Mickey is staring.  He snaps his eyes up briefly to Ian's face and sees confusion and a hint of insecurity in his eyes.

Good.

Mickey grins wolfishly at him, then drops to his knees without ceremony.  And Gallagher makes this high pitched choking sound that makes it all worth it.

"Holy shit," Ian breathes, and his dick jumps, suddenly rock hard.

Mickey hesitates.  He reaches out a hand and pumps a few times, trying to remember what he'd learned during his "research", and what Gallagher's done to him.  So he licks a stripe from base to tip.

Ian keens.  And Mickey's own dick really likes that sound.  Mickey licks again.

"Please," Ian moans above him.  "Mick, please."

Oh, right.  He was supposed to make him beg for it, he'd just done it unintentionally.

"Please what?" he hears himself ask, voice low and sounding significantly more confident than he feels.

"Suck my dick.  Please."

It's so fucking hot, hearing those words.  Mickey abandons all prior misgivings and puts his mouth around the head of Gallagher's dick.  It feels bigger in his mouth than it does in his ass, and Mickey has to stop himself from moaning.

Ian thrusts weakly, and his dick slides further in.  Mickey hollows his cheeks and sucks, hard.  Ian yelps.

Okay, too much.

He's reluctant to bob his head up and down.  It just feels so- gay.  But Gallagher bucks again, and it isn't as faggy as sitting here like a bitch letting his mouth get fucked, so Mickey goes for it.

He takes Ian as deep as he can go and gags a little.  Out of the corner of his eye he sees Gallagher's hands flutter down, like he wants to tug on Mickey's hair but stopped himself.

Fuck, Mickey wants that.

Mickey tries the whole thing again, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing down, then back up, all the way to the tip.  He swirls his tongue around the head on instinct and tastes salty precome.  Ian's breath hitches, so Mickey does it again.

Soon instinct takes over.  He's tugging at the base of Gallagher's dick as he sucks him off, the two movements far from in sync, but fuck if it's not getting results.  Ian is making more noise than Mickey's ever heard him make, moans and gasps and sighs.

Mickey fumbles one-handed for his own belt, and eventually has to take his other hand away to get his own dick out.  He keeps sucking, though.  He doesn't think he can stop.

Fuck.  He really likes sucking dick.

"Close," Gallagher whines above him, so Mickey jerks himself off fast and rough to catch up while continuing to focus his attention on Ian's sloppily wet dick.  His hand brushes Gallagher's tight sack, and he wishes there were time to try out his mouth there.   _Next time._

Jesus fuck, there's gonna be a next time.  He might as well just punch himself in the face after this.  He deserves to be fag bashed.

"Coming," Ian warns, and his dick pulses in Mickey's throat.  Mickey comes too, grunting around Ian until they're both spent.  Gallagher's dick twitches one last time.

"Oh my God," he breathes.  "Holy shit, Mickey."

Mickey swallows, grimacing, then reaches for the Powerade he'd set down by Ian's feet.  He's tasted his own come before, once on accident and once out of curiosity.  Gallagher tastes different, but the same.  Still not pleasant.

"It was Lip," Gallagher says suddenly, quietly.  There's a soft 'thunk' as Gallagher lets his head fall back against the wall.  Mickey looks up at him from down on his knees.  He should really get up, but he feels like his legs might not work right.

"Your asshole brother trashed the store?"  It's weird, going from sucking dick moments ago to talking about said dick's dick of a brother, but it's good, too.  Less time to be embarrassed about what the fuck Mickey just did.

Ian nods.

"Why?"

"He's pissed cuz I'm pissed at him."

Mickey rocks back on his heels, annoyed by the slow pace of this conversation.

"So why the fuck are you pissed anyway?" he asks, not caring much about the answer in the moment.  His jizz is splattered on the floor between Gallagher's feet.  It just narrowly missed the pants and boxers that are still around Gallagher's ankles.

"He tried to talk to this guy about getting me into West Point and got himself recommended instead," Ian tells him, bending to right his clothes.

Mickey stands slowly, feeling a little lightheaded, momentarily distracted by the ache in his jaw, the taste of Ian in his mouth.  Fuck, he could go for round two.

"He do it on purpose?" he asks finally, tucking himself back into his pants and taking another swig of his drink.  Whatever, what's a little more come on the floor back here?  It ain't the first time and won't be the last.

Gallagher frowns.

"No, but he could have fucking tried harder to talk me up or something!"

He knows West Point is important to Gallagher for whatever fucking reason, but honestly, this seems like some petty ass North Side shit to Mickey.  Mickey searches his brain for something comforting or sympathetic to say.

"Iggy once stabbed me in the leg for taking the last corn dog," is all he comes up with.  Gallagher scrunches up his face at him.

"How the fuck is that at all related?"

Mickey shrugs, then leads the way out of the freezer.  The store is eerily quiet and still a mess, just like they left it.

"Just sayin'.  Least he tried.  Some of us don't even got that."

Ian considers this, looking a little chagrined.  Mickey scowls.  The last thing he needs is Gallagher's fucking pity.

"Look, you want me to kick his ass or some shit?  I'm sure I could think of a good enough reason." Like maybe Lip's stupid ass face was annoying him or something.  That's a pretty believable one.

"Nah," Gallagher says, waving him off.  "I'm handling it."

"Whatever."  Mickey's itching for a smoke.  He inclines his head toward the back door and Ian gets it, nodding.

"Hey, thanks by the way," he calls to Mickey just as he reaches the back door. Mickey glances back.  Ian's already got the paper towels in his hand again.  "You're like, really good at that."  He points to his dick, as if Mickey needs a reminder.

Color rises to Mickey's cheeks, and he turns away quickly.  Leave it to Gallagher to ruin the fucking moment.  And here he thought he'd never have to think about it again.

Except when he was laying in bed.  Or in the shower.  Or anywhere within fifty feet of Ian fucking Gallagher.

"Fuck off," he says back, giving Ian the finger and striding out the back door.

Fuck Ian Gallagher and his stupid family problems and his dopey puppy dog eyes and his idiot laugh and his huge ugly dick.


End file.
